She stayed
by Lilya
Summary: “Drops of water wearing through the stone” sequel. Draco Malfoy was gone, but Victoria stayed. And this is what happened to her… Warning: not for Gryfiindors' fans.
1. Default Chapter

Title: She stayed 

Author: Lilya

E-mail: **lylalay@virgilio.it**

Genre: Angst

Summary: "Drops of water wearing through the stone" sequel. Draco Malfoy was gone, but Victoria stayed. And this is what happened to her… 

Main characters: Victoria Cross, Draco Malfoy 

Pairing: Draco/OC (just a little bit)

Rating: PG    

Disclaimer: Victoria is mine, Hogwarts belongs to J. K. Rowling.    

Author's notes: I think I'll never stop thanking my wonderful beta-reader, Daughter of Olorin….THANK YOU! 

I'm sorry if I made you wait for so long. I did my best…       

SHE STAYED… 

The last school day I stood on the lake banks, alone, in the same place where Draco and I used to go. The weather was warm, but there was a nice breeze that here in Italy, at least today, you can't find…I can't remember what I was thinking about: maybe everything, maybe nothing. But I remember I didn't need to turn around to know he was there. 

I was waiting for you, Potter. I knew you'd come to me sooner or later. I shook my head, but I didn't turn around to look at him So _typically_ Gryffindor.  

I… He didn't have time to finish his sentence. 

If you're here to tell me you're sorry for Draco, spare me. I wouldn't believe you even if you swore on your parents' graves. it was a dirty trick, I know…but I am a Slytherin, or not? And then that day, sorry, since _that_ day, I didn't feel like being kind to anyone. They made me definitely lose the will to be kind.        

Well…I…I just wanted to know if you're okay.

Why? He hesitated. My question had caught him off guard. Why should you care if I'm okay or not? I'm just a Slytherin, or not? I'm one of the villains, or not? 

You are? he asked me.  

I turned to glare at him, caught between deadly offense and disgust. Do you want to be challenged to a duel?  

He blushed and lowered his gazed, embarrassed. Forgive me…I thought…  

…I was already a Death Eater because I was Draco's friend, didn't you think? Or did you think so because I'm a Slytherin? I didn't leave him time to answer You're _just like everyone else_, Potter. You Gryffindors are all the same.  

You almost make it sound as an insult. 

It is an insult, I  icily replied.    

We were silent for a while, then I spoke again. Do you know what? I was wondering if in the end you'd come …Good boys don't mix up with those heartless monsters, those Dark-Side-followers, those scum from Slytherin.    

Nobody ever thought you were…

This was too much. I didn't let him finish. No? Wake up, Potter. In chase you didn't notice, for all the Wizardry World, _you_ are the heroes and _we_ are the villains…But it's not our fault. 

It is. You could've… 

Have _what_, Potter? Not everyone manage to save himself on his own, not when he has the whole world against him. I looked at his face. And remember, without us, you are nothing…Because to be a hero, you need an enemy to fight. A painful smile curled up my lips. Chase decided it has to be us…But remember that, at the very beginning, every House had the same probabilities to be labeled as a "Dark House," even your dear, infallible Gryffindor. Suddenly, I realized I was almost shouting. 

Your founder… he started, but neither this time I let him go on. 

What gives you right to believe our ideas are the same of an old arteriosclerotical wizard who lived God only knows how many years ago? Oh, except for your presumption. You're exactly like your founders, who preferred sending Salazar Slytherin away instead of trying to make him realize he was wrong. You've already decided we have his same beliefs because we belong to his House. And now tell, _this_ is not being "arrogant and racist"?

He hung his head, but I wasn't done yet. Do you know what I hate about you and those like you, Potter? You're perceived as heroes, but you won't risk anything to help us coming out of the hell where you put us. For Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, you're ready to fight tooth and nails, but we are not worth the trouble.     

Don't try to blame us for what happened to Malfoy.

Leave Draco out of this. Right now, he's not the matter.

Yes, he is. Why do you keep on looking at us like it was our fault? 

Because it is your fault, I replied dryly. If you hadn't treated him like that…  

He cut me off: His death was an accident. And what has the way we have treated him to do with all that happened? 

It has a lot to do with that. Have you ever wondered why all these years he made your life a hell? Well, I'm going to tell you. He always caused troubles because that was his way to ask for help. He hoped someone could save him from the abyss he was destined to…But nobody understood. _You_ didn't understood. And if you think you can shut your conscience up getting your own back on me, then fuck off. I stopped for a second before telling him what I thought of him. You are not a hero, Potter. You are not heroes, because you gave up on Draco and on us Slytherins without a fight. I decided it was a lost cause, a sentence without appeal, forgetting that in our trial, if ever there was one, you were judge and jury!          

He didn't know what to say and I didn't leave him time to find the words. I passed him by, walking toward the castle. But after a few steps, I stopped and turned around to look at him. 

You think so as well. 

What? he asked bewildered, turning to me.   

You think it was your fault for Draco's death as well, I told him calmly Or you wouldn't have come here to talk to me.  

I walked away and I left him there, full of doubts. 

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Hated it? Let me know nonetheless. 

Next part coming soon! 


	2. Empty and Alone

Hello, I'm back. Second chapter for you. 

**Empty and alone**

The coach passes a bend of the road and I can see Hogwarts' castle, clinging to his hill and surrounded by the lake. I've always wondered if it was built like this to keep the enemies – _what_ enemies? – out or us students in. I've never liked this place and the thing I hate the most is that, as much as you try, you can't avoid it. There's no place in the surrounding park where its shadow doesn't fall. Some would call it a good and reassuring presence. I don't. This damned place, with its stupid rules and idiot costumes…this prison where we're all locked up. No…where I'm locked up. I think I'm the only one who feel like a prisoner here. To everybody else this is a refuge, a comfort…"The last bulwark against the Dark Side." The hell with that. I hate this place. I can stand it no more. I wanna set it on fire, reduce it into ashes, wipe it away from Earth…I wanna dance on the lawn waving my arms and laugh, laugh, laugh as fire devours and consumes it as the structure gives away and succumbs…just like Draco -- the only thing that made this imprisonment bearable.            

I'm in the Great Hall and I sit at my usual seat now. I see all the other students chatting happy and carefree, laughing, joking with their friends in the hall full of light…and then there's me, wrapped up with shadows. Me, who doesn't let them be. Me, who bothers them because I don't stop accusing them. Draco's gone, but I'm still here. I'm the false note in their perfect symphony, the broken warp that ruins the whole piece of fabric, the dark stain in their perfect picture of light. Exactly, picture…for I don't believe what I see. They try  not to see me, to ignore my existence…but they can't. Everyone, sooner or later, is forced to raise his eyes from the plate, from his neighbor's face…then this dark stain that I am attracts his gaze, reminding all of them what they want to forget. They say I'm crazy, but maybe they are the crazy ones, so _busy _pretending nothing has happened, so _anxious _ to forget it, so _shocked_ by the idea of  being guilty of a sin, especially of one so grave. But you can't escape your responsibilities. I'm here to remind them. Also, because of this, I don't go away.            

Here comes Potter with his little friends. Who are you going to fight now, Potter? Who will be your rival? I could almost ask him…Maybe it'll be me. It'd be the most logical and probable choice. Who better of me against Poster-boy? The answer is: Draco. But Draco is dead. And I'm still here. 

I leave the Great Hall before the feast is over, and I don't care if it is against the rules.    

My arms are folded and I held them tight against my body, because now that Draco is gone, nobody is here to hold me when I feel like I'm going to fall into pieces…now, I do always feel like this, like I'm going to break. Does Potter ever feel like this as well? I think so. At bottom – _very _at bottom – he reminds me a little bit of Draco…I wonder if he noticed how silent the passages had became since Draco died. I wonder if sometimes he feels lonely just like me, now that he has no one to fight with, no one to confront every day, no one to beat…Yeah, I do often wonder. Am I deceiving myself I'm not the only one to miss Draco? But I can't answer this question, nor the others…I'm not a Gryffindor.        

Have Hogwarts' corridors always been so empty and cold? Or are they mirrors that reflect me, empty and alone?   

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	3. I am stronger

I am stronger 

Author's note: everybody knows Medea the sorceress as an evil woman who betrayed her own country, killed her brother and, after she was betrayed by her husband who abandoned her to marry a princess, killed said princess and her own sons. This is not the Medea I'm talking about. Christa Wolf speaks of her as a "dangerous person who knows a terrible secret and scapegoat": I a way, her book kinda inspired me to write this.      

A soft, slow, rhythmic sound. Tic, tic, tic…These are the drops of water falling into the wash-basin. A dripping tap. Everything is darkness. I keep my eyes shut and wait, wait  for another blow. I heard – did I really hear it? Or it was just an illusion? – their footsteps fading away in the corridor. Were they laughing? Maybe. I don't know. I don't hear other sounds. Just the rhythmical dripping of the water. And my own painful breath. I can't help but smiling a little. Even if it doesn't seem so, what happened was a good thing. It means they _feel_. They feel my hatred. They know it was their fault and I'll never stop reminding them. Do they think they can play the same game with me as they did with Draco? Maybe. But I'm not the child I was when I first came here anymore. After all that had happened, I'm stronger. 

The blow I'm waiting for doesn't come. I open my eyes slowly. The bathroom is empty. No one. They went away. They have had enough. I don't who they were, I have no way to know it. I have a whole school of potential suspects. They hid their faces and removed everything that could make me go back to their original House. Did they follow me, waiting for the most favorable moment to attack me? It may be. Now they are in the Great Hall, filling their stomachs and exchanging secret glances full of satisfaction. They won't boast of it openly – too dangerous – but they don't need to. To their ego, the mere thought of _doing what they have to_ is more than enough. Right in this moment, everyone, my attackers included, is dining in the Great Hall and nobody wonders where I am. Why should they? They'll be glad of my absence, so for  at least one evening I won't be there, forcing them to remember their sin. 

If Draco was alive…But Draco is dead and now I'm alone. It doesn't matter. It's time to do something. I can't sit here on this cold floor forever, hoping that sooner or later someone will find me. Nobody will look for me and I don't wait for anyone. I don't need a knight in his shining armor to save me. My right hand clutches the porcelain of the basin. My back leaves the wall and I manage to get on one knee by it. My left hand clings to the border. Now I'm on my knees. Doing these simple movements, my body gives me some signals quite clear. I feel my scratches bleeding, but it doesn't matter. Using my arms and legs, I get myself on my feet. My hands clutch the basin, every centimeter of my body hurts, maybe I'm going to faint but I hold on. I won't fall. As soon as the pain fades a little, freeing my limbs for its ties, I start walking. My first steps are goofy, unsure. I support myself on the basin, leaning my weight completely. I stumble. 

I avoid looking in the mirror. Surely I'm not a pretty spectacle. My braid must be half undone, my hair falls on my shoulder and on my face, like snakes. The uniform is dirty with dust and blood, my blood, and it tore when one of them caught me when I tried to run, after trying to fight. My face must be an utter disaster. There's no more blood running down from the corner of my mouth, I think it's coagulated. And I don't wanna think about my right eye, where one of them hit me with his last punch that threw me against the wall. I guess there's not a centimeter of my body left where you can't find a bruise with all the kicks they gave me while I was down. I keep on walking. I'm out of the bathroom, in the corridor, leaning against the wall. I can't stay like this. It seems that this beating was enough to break me. I start balancing my weight on my feet. I walk away from the wall, now I'm just grazing it with my fingertips. Another step and I'm far from it. I walk on my own, in the middle of the corridor. Bones and muscles recriminate because of the strain I'm forcing them, but I don't listen to their laments. 

I force myself to straighten my back. I raise my face, I walk with my head high. I wasn't named after one of the greatest queens of England for nothing. I have nothing to be ashamed of, not me. I hear voices, the roaring of the crowd. A little further, there's the corridor to the Great Hall. It's a fixed passage for every member of every House. Here they are, I can see them. That mass of black uniforms, like many ants. They fall silent as soon as I step into the light of this corridor from the darkness of the one I ran along before. They can't speak and, for a moment, we stay here, looking at each other, me and them. I see shock, surprise, fright upon their faces. I hope that upon mine there's written the most ferocious accusing look I've ever thrown in a whole year. On the first line, I've immediately seen the three Gryffindors, Potter, Weasley, Granger. Potter, Perfect Potter, the boy who will always be a hero for everyone but not for me, makes a step toward me to catch me. I guess he thinks I'm going to fall flat on my face in the dust, but I step back before he touches me. I look at his face, concentrating all the hate I feel for him and the others in my eyes, upon my face. 

He steps back and a shiver runs through the crowd of students – everyone can see me perfectly. They're scared of me, just like Trojans were scared of Cassandra and the Corinthians of Medea. I guess they didn't think that looking at someone with so much hatred was possible. Neither did I, once. My eyes slide from Potter to the compact crowd in front of me. They're many, I know, they hide among themselves the four that beat me, I know. They could attack me, I know, but I know that I'll never be defeated. As much as they throw me on the ground, I'll always keep on rising. I'm stronger than them. This is the message I transmit them. They back away again. The crowd splits in two wings. I pass among them holding my head high, looking ahead, like a queen. Somebody is surely looking at me with respect, but I don't care of their respect. I walk along the corridor and I don't even stop in front of the stairs. I know which road I shall take. Instead of climbing the stairs to the Hospital Wing, I go down toward the dungeons, where there is the Common Room of us Slytherins. I'm not sure I can still say "us," but it doesn't matter. I think it's a good thing that I am a Slytherin because, if I was from another House and somebody had beat, me surely they would blame it on them. I still think they are the guiltiest for Draco's death and I don't feel like excluding the presence of one of them in the punitive expedition, but it's a good thing that I am in Slytherin. It's time to understand that the students from the other Houses are not angels as well. 

I walk toward the dungeons. My body begs me to stop at least for a second, but I can't. If I stopped, I couldn't start again. I can't let them find me sitting here when they'll come. I told you: they are my Housemates, but also the guiltiest ones. Not that I think I'm an innocent, by the way. I am guilty as well, but my crime is different. Theirs is driving Draco to kill himself, mine not being able to stop him. I say the password and enter the empty Common Room. I'm not here to stay. I climb the stairs on the left, until I find a door without any sign. They have never used this room since last year. Maybe the boys are afraid to wake up one morning and find Draco at the end of the bed, looking at them, within his eyes the same accusing look you can find in mine. My hands shake as I reach for the handle. I enter the empty room, that to me will always be the Sixth year boys' dorm. No one's here: nor people, nor personal belongings. The five beds are lined against the wall but there are no trunks near them. I consider this place as my refuge…I always had, especially in the previous years. I came here looking for help and comfort. Now, I find help and comfort in my memories. The last strain and then I'll rest. The second bed on the left. The one – the only one – that was still used, until last year. My strength starts to leave me, but I can allow it. I cling to a bedpost not to fall on the ground. I try to stand still, to keep on thinking. 

Professor Snape will be furious, I don't wanna be in the other student's shoes, especially Potter's. Obviously, they'll never find out who had done this, but it doesn't matter. Those four who beat me where there in that corridor and they saw me passing by. They lost. They can't defeat me and now they know it. I'm stronger than them, than all of them together. I can't hold back a smile. It's funny that I, who always scolded Draco for wanting to be strong at any cost, performed this little stunt this evening. The difference is that I don't act like I'm stronger: simply, I am. This is not vanity. I did become stronger. I won't end up like Draco. They won't break me. They hold no power on me. My name doesn't mean "winning girl" for nothing. I fall on the bed and every light goes out.              


	4. I remember

Author's notes: first of all, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. Second, I must apologize for such a late update. 

Just one more thing: I've got a couple of reviews about "Drops of water wearing through the stone" saying that Blaise Zabini is a girl. I've checked: "Blaise" is a French male name. Ever heard of Blaise Pascal? Does he look like a girl to you?       

Sorry if it sounds harsh, but…

Well, let's start…

**I remember**

_"Remember, remember _

_the fifth of November_

_gunpowder, treason and plot_

_we see no reason _

_why gunpowder and treason _

_should ever be forgot." _

I take the Hogwarts Express four times a year and just half these times I'm glad to: when it takes me back home for Christmas break first and summer holidays then. Today is one of those times…the first cause, precisely. I remember when I came back home during my first year…Maybe the only year when I'd _deliberately_ chosen not to take this train. I didn't care about the attacks or Slytherin's Monster. Then, I am a Pureblood and a Slytherin, so I had nothing to be afraid of. Truth to be told, I was a little bit scared and surely I wasn't the only one. Whatever our _dear_ schoolmates could say, not even we Slytherin could be so calm. But I was ready to stay nonetheless, in spite of the monster and of my feelings toward the school. The reason? Draco. I didn't want to leave him alone. It was him who persuaded me to get on this train, maybe, who _forced _me a little bit. He didn't want me to stay there for the same reason that drove him to wait for me outside the classroom and escort me to the following class. He feared I could get hurt. 

I thought I'd never be ready on time, but he made sure I was. Differently from him, I lacked – and I still lack – of organization. I can still see my dorm, with all my clothes scattered around like the suitcase had exploded…and once it was full, it _really _looked like it was going to explode. I had to ask Draco to close it and even so, I had to sit down on the cover before he managed to close it. Right at the last moment. I remember how heavy that damned suitcase was and how difficult I found dragging it for the first flight of stairs. I remember it well. I had stopped on the first landing to catch my breath when somebody took my suitcase asking if "_bella signorina_1" needed help. I turned around just to find myself completely lost in Draco's gray eyes. He carried my suitcase to the coach and helped me placing it. He insisted on coming with me, even if I had already been entrusted to Marcus and Adrian's "cares," who disappeared as soon as we reached the station. I always have wondered if they left because they didn't feel like staying with two younger students or because they wanted to leave us alone intentionally. I've never known and now it doesn't matter. I remember it was a horrible day. It was cloudy and dark, it looked like midnight and every light had been lit. I remembered the falling snow and my hair covered with a Slytherin scarf. I remember the walk with Draco on the crowded platform, looking for Marcus and Adrian's compartment, snow and ice creaking under our boots. 

I remember when we found the compartment and placed my suitcase on the net. I remember those goodbyes, almost embarrassed, his So…see you. I remember him walking away along the corridor and his puzzled face when I called him back. I remember his smile as I told him, Merry Christmas, Draco, and his voice when he answered, Merry Christmas, Torey. 

I remember his pale face and his cold-reddened cheeks, the cold wind playing with the hem of his dark cloak, his eyes watching me, the snowflakes among his blond hair. All things I saw behind a window dirty with snow. I remember how sad he looked, but maybe it was just an impression I got from the gray-lead sky, the faint light, and the empty platform behind him. Students who didn't go home weren't allowed to come to the station. You had to say goodbye to your friends at the castle. But Draco and I have never been rules-followers.                        

I remember I tried to roll the window down to say goodbye to him again, but I couldn't and I cursed "this damned school where there isn't a damned thing that works."

I remember when the train left slowly, and Draco followed my wagon until the end of the platform where he had to stop. I remember I flattened myself against the window, trying to see him standing there at the end of the platform, against the gray and black sky with the white light of a lamp bathing his face and a raised arm to wave at me.   

The train has finally arrived in London. Both outward and return journey are always unpleasant to me. I gather my luggage and I get off the train. Now I'll go home via Floo Powder Special.

Draco. As usual, I've spent the whole ride thinking about you. I'm so tired…When I come home, I'll go to bed immediately, I'm not hungry. Maybe I'll dream of you tonight, and maybe I won't. 

And guess what?

I can't decide which one of these two hypotheses is the worst one.    

1) _bella signorina_ = pretty lady 


	5. Good girl

You thought that it was over, didn't you? Not exactly… There's still one chapter and then a big twist in the tale (wait and see…)  

**Good girl ** I have to be a good girl 

The chalk squeaks on the blackboard as I write. The old withered shriveled witch, better known as Minerva McGonagall, has been very precise. One hundred times, Miss Cross! Not one more, not one less!  

I have to be a good girl 

…and if such a thing happens again, they'll be two hundred and so on until you understand how to behave yourself.

I have to be a good girl 

I bet you're going to explain to me how to be a good girl, aren't you? Open up your ears, then, for I have something to say to you.

I have to be a good girl 

You can force me to write this goddamned line 'till Doom's Day and beyond, but it won't change a damn thing. I don't care what I must and mustn't do, what I must and mustn't say, I don't care what you want. I'm not a dog you can train, I'm not a damned wild horse you can tame…I'm not a kind of an alien monster that has to be laid on an operating table and cut into pieces. I'm just Victoria Cross, why don't you let me be who I am? Why do you want me to be someone else at any costs? Oh, yeah…because I bother you, isn't it?

_I don't wanna be a good girl_   

You say I'm mad. Madness is the only way you have to explain my behavior without talking about Draco. How long will you ignore it?

_I don't wanna be a good girl_   

Just because I don't give a damn about what you think, because you don't like how I think about what happened to Draco, just because…yeah, why? Do you need a why, since when? Maybe all you need is another villain, someone to fight, someone to overcome…I don't wanna fit in and because of this I'm mad.   

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

Being a good girl is boring. I wanna say everything I think, I wanna think everything I want, simply I don't wanna follow your scheme. 

I don't wanna be a good girl   

This is  the price to pay. And I'm not talking about the lines I'm writing on the blackboard that surely will earn me another detention. 

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

It's a closed circle, folks. It's also thanks to you if I am what I am. Somebody has to do it, do you know it or not? Or do really you think you can keep on going like nothing had happened?  

I don't wanna be a good girl 

No, I won't stop it. You wouldn't let us be _then_, now it's my turn not to let you be.  

I don't wanna be a good girl   

Especially because being a good girl means follow your scheme and your rules. No, thank you. I won't let you entrap me. Simply, I do what I have to. 

I don't wanna be a good girl   

I think that's why I am here. Not to let you forget. That's why I don't go away, that's why I'm always on your backs. I say everything I think and I do everything I wish. 

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl_   

The chalk keeps on squeaking and I keep on writing. 

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

_I don't wanna be a good girl   _

And I have nothing else to say about it. 

I don't wanna be a good girl   


	6. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw

Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw 

Here I am again, for another stupid, cursed school-year. The last one, fortunately. 

I bet that my _dear_ schoolmates didn't expect to find me here. Probably, they thought I'd be too scared to come back. Because I'm a Slytherin, right? And Slytherins are just coward funks, the Gryffindors are the brave ones…

If they weren't so blinded by they stupid stereotypes, _maybe_ they'd realize that courage has nothing to do with the House one has been sorted in. A Slytherin can be brave and more than a Gryffindor, too. Being a Slytherin requires courage, but not the one they know.  

_Aberdeen, Louisa…Hufflepuff! _ _Acton, Jeremy…Gryffindor!_ _Addigton, Jackson…Ravenclaw!_ _Akenside, Isabel…Gryffindor!      _

There were brave Slytherins and I did know them. Last year they sat with me at this table that looked immense to us.  From more then one hundred students, suddenly, we had lessened to thirty.  

All those empty seats dismayed us, scared us. 

Attlee, Sarah…Ravenclaw! 

Maybe we didn't want to believe that the others had really left, that they didn't have had the courage to come back. 

_Babbitt, Anthony…Hufflepuff!_

_Bailey, Kathleen…Gryffindor! _

_Bale, Carla…Gryffindor__!_

We never thought that one day we would diminish again.  

Even if it didn't depend on our will. 

_Barker, Edward…Gryffindor! _

_Beckford, Martin…Ravenclaw!_

_Beckford, Anne…Hufflepuff!_

We should have known it. We should have expected it, we should have…Oh, God! 

I do not cry. I must not cry. Not now. Maybe later, when I'm back in my empty dormitory, after I've passed through a Common Room emptier and colder. When I find myself more alone than I  am now, sitting at this huge table, then I'll cry. 

But not yet.

Not in front of them.

_Berry, Frank…Hufflepuff!_

_Betterton, Christine…Gryffindor!_

_Biddle, Johanna…Hufflepuff!_

_Blake, Anne…Ravenclaw! _

_Bloomfield, Mary…Gryffindor!  _

It's ironic. Everybody accuses us Slytherins as traitors, and yet we have been betrayed.  

Those betrayals were our end, the end of the true Slytherins.  

_Carter, Nathan…Gryffindor!_ _Chambers, Lorena…Ravenclaw!_ _Chivers, William… Hufflepuff!_

We saw the first betrayal, maybe the heaviest – but it's hard to tell – at the beginning of last year. When almost none of the students came back. 

Counting the students from the Second-Year up, we were twenty-four. 

Twenty-four. 

Out of at least one hundred and fifty. 

And even counting those who started their First-Year, we were but thirty. Thirty. 

_Dale, Harmon…Ravenclaw!_

_Dane, Britney…Ravenclaw!_

_Deeping, Allan…Gryffindor!_

_Dewey, Margaret…Hufflepuff!_

_Dillon, Alicia…Gryffindor!_

_Dobson, Martha…Hufflepuff! _

Slytherin is quite a particular House. In spite of the normal competitiveness, the other Houses support each other.  But who supports us? 

Dowden, Mary…Hufflepuff! 

I'll tell you: no one. We learned that we can count on ourselves only long ago. And this, usually, makes us one of the most united Houses ever. 

_Eastman, Charlotte…Gryffindor!___

We realized that, if we want to survive, the only chance we have is staying close.  

_Elyot, Charles…Ravenclaw!_

But they betrayed their House. They didn't come back. 

Some changed schools, denying their House, denying us. They weren't true Slytherin. A true Slytherin is proud to be in the House of Salazar. 

To a Slytherin, his House is everything he has got.   

_Emerson, Elizabeth…Gryffindor!_

Others went over to He-who-must-not-be-named side. 

Everett, Lydia…Hufflepuff! 

Their action is a treason as well. 

They fight against Hogwarts, our House is part of Hogwarts, ergo they're fighting against us. 

Fleming, Dylan…Gryffindor! 

Yeah, we're part of Hogwarts too… but some here have the tendency to forget it a little too easily. 

_Foxe, Jennifer…Ravenclaw! _ _Foyle, Robert…Hufflepuff!_

_Frere, Justine…Gryffindor!_

Here they are, the last traitors. Here they are, our murderers. 

_Gage, Frida…Hufflepuff!_

_Galt, Walter…Gryffindor!_

_Garnett, Edwina…Ravenclaw!_

I don't know who they are. I didn't see their faces. They covered it with a white hood. 

They entered in our Common Room forcing poor Bernard Clover, a First-Year, to open the door. 

I don't blame him, poor boy. I saw how they reduced him. 

_Irving, Heather…Ravenclaw!_

_Jansen, Jeffrey…Hufflepuff!_

_Kean, Valery…Gryffindor! _

There were thirty students in the House of Slytherin and now there's only one left. 

I, who was the last one to reach the battlefield.  

I, who have been saved by my Housemates because somebody had to live. 

_Muirhead, Peter…Gryffindor!_

_Muirhead, Susan…Ravenclaw!_

_Norris, Moses…Hufflepuff!  _

It's just a case if I'm still alive. It could have been anybody else…I've been saved just because I was the only one left. 

_Oates, Kendra…Ravenclaw!_

It could have been anybody else.

_Overbury, Gabriella…Grifondoro!_

Unfortunately, it has been me. 

_Page, Margaret Anne…Hufflepuff! _

Sitting alone at my House's table, I meet professor Snape's gaze. None of us can stand the other's sight and we turn the other way immediately. 

_Price, Fredericka…Ravenclaw!_

He can't forgive himself for not being able to protect us. 

_Quinnley, Philip…Hufflepuff!_

He never told us, but I think that he was proud of us. 

_Radcliff, Johnatan…Gryffindor! _

Try to make him understand that it wasn't his fault. 

_Randall, Josephine…Gryffindor!_

_Reid, Carter…Ravenclaw!_

_Rogers, Benjamin…Hufflepuff! _

Our House is dead. We are the last two left. As the list shortens, our hopes fade like burned out candles. 

_Sheridan, Thomas…Ravenclaw!_

_Stevens, Lucinda…Gryffindor!_

_Symons, Giles…Hufflepuff!_

Jacqueline Stratton, who would be Fourth-Year if she had lived, has a sister, who is a witch like her. This year she is to start school, but where is she? Where is Yvonne Stratton?

_Thornhill, Lloyd…Gryffindor!_

_Thynne, Paula…Hufflepuff!_

_Townes, Violet…Ravenclaw__!_

It seems that her parents prefer not to send her here. 

Unwin, Dawn…Gryffindor! 

Maybe they feared that she'd be Slytherin, like her sister and the two of them before. 

_Vickers, Sylvia…Ravenclaw!_

_Walford, Trevor…Hufflepuff! _

The Sorting is ending. A new school year is about to start.

_Webster, Darcy…Ravenclaw!_

_Whitman, Cassandra…Hufflepuff!_

_Woolner, Patrick…Hufflepuff! _

_Wyatt, June…Ravenclaw!_

_Wyler, Orville…Gryffindor!_

_Yerby, Carson…Gryffindor! _

Here, for this year it's over. Even if I won't be here, I know that in the years to come the scene will always be the same, just like the rigmarole.

Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor,

Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor,

Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor…

I could go on forever, it won't change. 

Professor Snape and I are the last Slytherins left. 

The House of Slytherin is dead. It died with my brothers and sisters, who were killed by their schoolmates that night. 

There won't be other Slytherins at Hogwarts after our leaving.

I wonder: who will take our place now? Who will be the next Dark House?

Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?

(I know Gryffindor will be the last one. They're the heroes, aren't they?)

There aren't many choices. 

Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor?

I watch professor Snape as he walks away. There are only the two of us left. We and the bloody baron. I almost pity him, poor ghost. He'll bury us both. We will pass away, like every other man, when our time comes or when _somebody_ decides that our time lasted long enough. But he will stay. He will have to stay, he has no choice. He'll have to stay even when Slytherin will be only a dusty relic, a piece of a long-lost past, an empty drawing on a shield. He'll have to stay, even when we will be nothing, even when the whole of Hogwarts will follow our destiny. 

Unfortunately, things turned out this way. 

After all, who will care about the Lost House? The ones who kinda caused our death by joining the Dark Side and strengthening a stereotype? The ones who didn't have the pride and the courage to come back, who abandoned us and don't wish to be called our brothers and sisters anymore? The other Houses, who weren't able to give us anything but the cold blade of a knife and a cold tomb?          

No, none of these traitors care or will ever care about the Lost House of Slytherin.

We are the only ones left. 

A professor, a girl and a ghost.  

That's all. 

Author's note: Victoria Cross is moving. She's currently leaving for Middle Earth. 

Yeah, you read well. I know, it sounds Mary- Sueish. 

What can I say, I hadn't planned this development when I started writing "Drops of water wearing through the stones". I hadn't planned this fiction, either. It just…happened. 

If you like the character 'till now, I suggest you to have a look to the other fictions, "The long way – the ten walkers." Since I don't know how to post it in more than a place, you'll find it in the Lord of the Rings section. 

Thank you for stopping by, reading and reviewing [the button is down there…Thank you! ; ) ]


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